Chasing Darkness
by Lil' Hedgepig
Summary: "The influence of the Carrington Institute is waning under the constant assault from its rival, the dataDyne Corporation and their new CEO-elect. If something doesn't happen quickly to turn the tide back to Carrington's favor, it could spell the end of the Institute. The solution might lie in a few aspiring agents and an agreement between Carrington and an old business partner."
1. Late Night Fireworks

Perfect Dark: Chasing Darkness

Chapter 1

One of the men incessantly glanced up at the flickering light above while the other shuffled a deck of cards against a cheap, metal side-table. Amidst a bridging of the cards, the man centered his gaze upon his fellow across from him, watching with a mundane curiousness. He finished messing with the cards and dealt another hand for the two of them then folded his hands together, waiting for his friend to return attention to their game. When the man across from him, a thick-jawed, rounded-faced fellow with barely a black stubble for hair, failed to naturally return to reality, the card dealer raised his hand, giving a quick snap of his fingers. The result was almost immediate. The fellow noticeably shook in his own chair and quickly looked down at his cards. After this, the game commenced between them. They played a traditional game of poker.

"You shouldn't be so nervous." The man said, tipping the edge of his cards up for a peek. "I can see through you so easily that if I'd go all-in, you'd probably follow through just to get the game said and done."

The other man looked away, ashamed. "Sorry. I'm just jittery with the change of scenery and all."

"Lighten up. You'll work those shoes of yours in, don't you worry." The man replied, rubbing a long strand of blond hair in between his fingers. Picking up a few of the white dollar chips, he looked out the window at the sea before tossing the chips into the pile loosely towards the middle.

Awaiting his partner's play, he pursed his lips slightly. "Nothing happens out here anyways. This is the easiest job a man could ask for - just watching a few gauges bob up and down."

The other man shook his head slightly. "Our employer thought the job was important." He said, hesitantly matching the blond man's bet.

The blond man responded with a shrug. "Any employer would think work that makes them money as important. They're not in it for the kicks you know. It's business."

The other man scratched his rounded, smooth jaw before flipping his cards over. He then looked away as the blond man raked up the chips over to his side of the table.

"Hey, it's after hours. Everyone's asleep. Nobody's around to give us hell about this or that. Why should we worry?" The blond man continued as he sloppily counted the earnings.

The larger fellow looked over at the console as his friend was saying this and felt his breath hitch. A red light was glowing and then dying off. The man thanked the Lord that there wasn't any noise or he was sure he would've died of a heart attack right then. His nerves were scattered and he quickly met the eyes of his partner.

"I worry about lights like that one." He said, a strange hint of boldness in his voice - triumph, perhaps.

The blond man tensed his eyebrows in a questioning manner before dismissing it. "So the electricity around here still works? Big surprise." He replied.

The other man sighed before turning his form towards the console. "We're here to watch for these things." He said under his breath. "That's what we're paid to do here." Contempt was vivid on his lips, almost as if he was offended by the quick rejection of his observation.

The blond man shook his head loosely in annoyance. "Sure, sure. Whatever." He said, before looking outside the front window. The rising violence of the wind outside was noticeable by the waves breaking their rhythmic patterns. He returned his sight to his friend, gesturing to the outside. "There's your explanation."

The other man frowned. "You're kidding." He said under his breath. "I'd be surprised if you even knew what the light is supposed to signal."

The blond man, raising a finger quickly. "It's there to alert us of changes in atmospheric mumbo-jumbo. Y'know, pressure, temperature, wind-speed. Those sorts of things."

The other man inspected the console again, tracing the different lights with his finger before stopping at the small, flashing, red beacon. Again, he felt his nerves freezing up. He looked at his friend and shook his head.

"That isn't the light?" The blond man asked.

"No." The other man said. "This light goes off when something off the coast goes past the perimeter."

The blond man waved his hand off at his partner, before wiping small beads of sweat off of his forehead. "Hell, it's a sauna in here." He sat still for a moment before rising from his chair and stretching. "Listen, I'm gonna go out and get some fresh air. I'll try to quell any fears that you have while I'm out there." He said, reaching for the pack of cigarettes before heading out of a thin, metal door out onto the deck.

The air sprayed cool, dew-like crystals onto his face. The crisp fall weather was in full force and, even though storms sometimes got out of hand, the night was the most refreshing this time of year. Taking leisurely, drawn-out steps towards the guard rail before the vastness of the Atlantic, the blond man slipped a cigarette out of the fragile pack. The man set it between his lips and pulled out a lighter from his pocket, striking down the flint a few times before the tiniest flame came to life. As he rose the flame up to the level of the cigarette, partially obscuring his vision, he noticed a much more blinding light off in the distance.

The blond man slipped the lighter back into his pocket and, while taking a draw from the cigarette, tried to focus onto the bulb of piercing light. He pulled the cigarette out from his lips between two fingers before rubbing his forehead. He forced himself to look away.

"Now the bastard has me worried." He muttered under his breath. "It's probably just a damn ship coming' in late."

He glanced briefly at it, noticing it was almost directly ahead but dismissed it and returned to drawing at his cigarette.

As he brought the cigarette to his lips once again, he dropped it as the loud sounds of an alarm went off and the flashing, strobe-like red lights that dotted the outside of the building began to let loose. The blond man called out some obscenities to himself before stomping his foot firmly onto the cigarette. He dashed to the door to head inside.

The moment he set his foot back into the monitor room, he called out for the other guy. When he didn't show, the blond man shuffled over to the consoles and started looking over everything. He shouted more obscenities, aiming to hear himself over the blaring of the alarm. He slammed his fists against the terminals before standing up straight.

"Hell, if only I paid attention." He said.

He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, and as he slid it on, he chargeup the diamond-plated metal staircase up into the facility's courtyard. He threw his eyes around frantically before running further into the courtyard. Though the floodlights about the courtyard were active, they were too powerful for the blond man's eyes to take in. He kept his body pressed firmly against the thick walls of one of the firing ranges. He floundered in his blind state for the entrance, intent on flinging himself into the enclosure and hiding from whatever the hell was going on. He could hear shouts and screams of terror all around him. His breathing quickened and his mind continuously abandoned him. Fear was taking over his senses.

Once he had found the entrance, he hid behind one of the larger, flat, wooden targets at the end of the range. He dropped slowly to his knees and braced his back against the coarse wood. He shut his eyes and focused on controlling his breathing. He thought he was in the clear.

Something struck the night sky with fire. The level of light now not far from it being mistaken for the early dawn. Even from the safety of his concrete enclosure, he could feel the heat from some massive explosion. He was shaken with terror. Whatever it was struck the same station that he and that other guy was in.

The screams and shouts intensified. Large bursts of random gunfire could be heard scattered throughout the facility.

This was real.

The man couldn't cope with the reality of it. What the hell was here that would cause someone to turn the place into a war-zone? This was just a damned training facility for some fancy people who thought they were good enough with a gun to become a privately contracted agent. The whole plot sounded too irrational for him to conceive.

Now there were actual men with guns here. Damn if he hadn't seen any of their faces. It was always like that in the movies.

The blond man formed himself into a ball. He was a mess. Sweat was dripping down from his face and his breathing wouldn't slow down enough for him to make sense of anything.

An hour for the rest of the world felt like a whole day for that one man. At the first sign of quiet, the blond man pushed himself off the ground and made his way over to the same way he came in. He had ridden the worst of it out!

He had to find someone. He had to see if there was anyone still alive and he needed to make sense of what the hell this all was.

As he slowly stepped his way back out to the courtyard. He didn't hear any sounds of police or ambulance sirens like he had expected. Where were the damn government officials who always pledged to help those in need? Even he wouldn't have said it out loud, he was certainly one of those people now!

Terrifying enough for him, there were no bodies anywhere as he moved across the courtyard towards the walkway that would lead to the bulk of the facilities. People had to have died. He heard their tormented cries and the terrible shooting.

He kept his coat over his head, thinking that if any danger were to come to him, he wouldn't be seen while he was underneath it. It was lightly drizzling even though he couldn't see any clouds above him.

He soldiered on cautiously until he came up to the main communication hub which was just behind one of the dormitories. He could see that the bright industrial lights were still on. He hugged his body against the cold, damp stone of the building as he moved his way around towards the entrance.

The white-washed wooden door was left open. The blond man squinted his eyes before slowly pressing against the side of the door frame, rolling his head so he could bend his vision and look in. He jumped at the sound of a frail voice from inside.

"The pain..." It said before being followed with cringe-worthy sounds that came as a result of such.

The blond man immediately rushed into the room. He locked his eyes on the bulky, black-haired man. The poor man returned the gaze with a piercing look of fright before realization. The blond man stopped beside him and dropped carefully down to his knees.

"What the hell happened?" He asked quickly, holding his hands in front of him helplessly.

"You... heard the guns..." The frail voice replied. That was all he managed to get out with his breath before tears.

"You called for help, right?" The blond man said, rising up and going to one of the consoles.

"No use..." The man on the ground choked.

The blond man slammed him fists against the console before turning to the other man.

"No use? No damned use! You've lost your mind!" He said, his breathing quickening again in panic. He hurriedly pressed any button within his reach before the video screen against the wall lit up with a clarification.

"It- It was probably- probably that damned rival corporation! Things like this have been on the news before!" He said, purposely looking away from his partner.

"The Institute... they can't help..."

The blond man turned to his partner. "You... You're only saying that because-"

His voice froze. The sound of screeching wheels approaching the front of the facility shattered all other noise. The blond man went ghostly pale, his pupils dilating with deathly fear. He backed against the same wall his dying partner was against and stayed very still because he could hear the footsteps coming for him. They echoed with him being their only target.

Two men, dressed in SWAT-like attire, armed with assault rifles entered the tiny communications hub. Their faces were concealed with riot masks and the symbols were plastered on the center of their armor. They stood menacingly before him, raised their weapons, aimed, and then the end.

Confirming the deaths of both men, the two agents turned briefly as if to look at each other. Then unspoken, one smashed the end of his gun against the video screen and the other emptied an entire clip across the length of all of the terminals. The left the communications hub, returned to their vehicle, and left the scene.


	2. Tragedy in the Office

Perfect Dark: Chasing Darkness

Chapter 2

Owen Chase laid his hands on the top of the table, his eyes slowly browsing over the various pieces of metal which made up the traditional Falcon II handgun. He squinted his eyes before a mental clock started in his head and his hands rushed off to begin the race of reconstructing the handgun from the ground up. He kept his mind devoid of thought, only allowing himself count in rhythmic beats in order to help keep his paces. He knew better, in this case, to let his eyes follow his hands so he closed them. The perfect run that he was looking for required that all of his mental focus go towards the speed and precisions which made his hands capable of flying side to side, grabbing mechanisms and efficiently delivering them to where they belonged.

His hands moved at an almost inhuman speed. He had put his hands through this rigorous task almost too many times to count. He had corrected every mistake that he had made in previous attempts and was now reaching the point in which no room for mishap except through his own imperfect, human nature.

He was half way now through the mental checklist that he had rehearsed so many times before this moment. He had made no error. There weren't any stutters of movement to impede his progress. The grandeur of letting his mind sneak in thoughts of triumph was too great, but he held it at bay. His hands were all that mattered now.

Subconsciously, his eyes reanimated, finding themselves stretching against the right corner of his eyelids. One figure came into view and then tragedy occurred. The spring destined for the chamber launched out of his hands. He had grabbed it too low while being distracted by the disobedience of his vision.

His eyes shut tight with fierce disappointment. He even cringed when he reassessed just how far into the build he had made it before the fatality. Owen let his hands drop onto the table before he began pressing as much of his own weight as he could against it.

Then came what he was dreading the most from his failure before it ever sounded. His female colleague, who he had personally asked to professionally record his complete time in what he had before convinced himself to be the perfect run.

Despite the success he was hoping to reap from this demonstration, only a cool but friendly laughter, garnished with a hint of competition and the strange sense of her own triumph in his failure, was his reward now.

"Cyn. Stop it." Owen said through semi-clenched teeth.

The red-headed woman continued on chuckling, a permanent smirk touching the top-left side of her mouth. Owen got himself to stand up straight, facing the woman.

"Laugh all you want. Just don't dive into one of your lectures that I take this sort of thing too seriously." Owen said over her cackling.

She quieted down and looked fondly at Owen. "Oh, but you do. I don't know why you're so worried about this." She said. "It's no secret you're one of the fastest agents here when it comes to handiwork."

Owen sighed, took up the unfinished handgun, and looked it over. "I don't know what it is about this one handgun. It's almost as if it mocks me."

Cynthia Hall laid her hand on Owen's shoulder before setting the stopwatch down. "It'll never say a word behind your back. Neither will I, I promise."

Owen looked her dead in the eyes accusingly. "Oh, no. I've learned from last time. If I let you get away with this. I'll be the laughing stock of all of the females agents. Again."

Cynthia closed her eyes and shook her thin head slightly. "Yes, but that was a different situation then." She said. "Even I can see this sort of thing means something to you. It does seem childish, maybe, but I'm not cruel enough to shun what you put yourself through."

Owen nodded gently before folding his hands behind his head. "Maybe if I lay off of it for a few days, I'll be able to get that perfect build I've been working towards."

Cynthia patted his shoulder. "Yeah. You taking a break would be the best thing for you right now. Especially because you're getting all tensed up about it."

Owen glanced at her. "What do you mean tensed up?" He asked, a slight laugh behind it. "I've only spent the last two hours at this before I came and got you. How could you say that?"

Cynthia shook her head playfully at him before looking at the door. "Well. We'd best head on over to the simulation room before Henry has his own fit. I left him there all alone before you came around."

Owen, dropping his hands to his side, took a step to the side. "Ladies first." He said with a subtle bow of his head.

Cynthia's smile grew faintly. "Oh, there's still hope for the gentleman inside of you yet." She said as he walked out.

The simulation room was only a short walk and a ride down the elevator. Once they got to the door, they both instinctively stopped and listened. They couldn't hear any holographic noises coming from within so Owen reached out, opening the door for Cynthia, who proceeded to enter, looking at Owen once more with a smirk.

The simulation they walked into had Henry Fletcher's fingerprints all over. Owen especially knew these because of the sheer lack of violence.

The simulation which was being projected was one of an office room not unlike those of the Institute with a single chair placed in the middle of the room, facing the back wall. The back wall was covered from corner to corner with various screens and meters. A massive console, both in size and complexity stood directly in front of the chair.

In the chair, a man sat. His almost-naturally white bleached-blond hair was the only part of him that could be seen. Henry Fletcher, the youngest of the Carrington agents at twenty-four, was taking on his own personal challenge, but it hung more closely to technological-based puzzles. Not so much obsessed with the art of hacking computers as Grimshaw was, Henry was definitely more dedicated and interested in encryption and the discovery of secret information and data than attacking and destroying whole systems.

Owen and Cynthia walked up and stopped just behind the chair that Henry was sitting in, both of them having their arms crossed in a similar manner. They watched as Henry moved with his own special speed. Various technological barriers stood in the way and Henry broke through almost all of them. Though, despite his best efforts, Henry came to a screeching halt. His focused and clear-minded expression was quickly train-wrecked into confusion and a brief hint of frustration.

Henry hung his head in defeat before sighing and stretching his fingers outward. "Grimshaw's still got a thing or two to teach me, then." He said, almost laughing at the realization. He stood up from the chair and powered down the whole simulation with the press of a button on his wristwatch before the image fizzled out in electronic noise and left the plain, empty, black-tiled room in its place.

Henry turned to address his two spectators, a lively look in his eyes. "So, what did you think?" He asked, glancing between them.

"It was a brilliant and exciting, as it always is," Cynthia said to him.

Owen looked over at Cynthia, a smirk on his face. "She still doesn't have a clue what's going on." He said. "That would be a better translation, Henry."

Cynthia gave a glare at Owen. "As if you knew anything about it. You're barely capable of opening an e-mail properly."

Henry stopped them, saying. "There's a reason why I'm the holding the records here and not you two."

Cynthia and Owen exchanged looks before they both were forced to try and conceal their laughter.

"And it's better that way," Cynthia replied.

"How close were you this time with it?" Owen asked, shifting his weight onto one leg.

"Well, I've just got a few of the higher level encryption to break through. You know, those nasty-" Henry said before a high-pitched ringing from the intercoms cut him off. There was a moment of silence before a voice, that of Carrington, spoke through them.

"All agents report to the hanger bay. Something serious has happened. Foster, bring me my clipboard." He said.

The three Institute agents looked up at the intercom speaker. After a brie moment of no-one moving, Owen looked at his two companions. "This one of the few times you can tell he's more than just angry."

The three of them made their way towards the hangers without any other comments. Cynthia looked quite worried. Owen, occasionally watching her, wanted to know why.

By the time they had reached the hanger bay, about a dozen people made of agents and staff had beat them there. They found next to each other on the left side of the crowd facing the doors to the outside vehicle pads and away from the upper facility from which they came. Carrington, his head tilted down, was flipping through various colored pages that were attached to his clipboard. Foster was standing beside him, being able to keep everything except his eyes still. The hanger bay was almost freezing and those who were unfortunate enough to not wear anything long-sleeved quietly shivered as they watched their boss go over notes.

Owen, Cynthia, and Henry were only able to exchange one glance between each other before Carrington returned the clipboard to Foster's hands. Foster quickly took hold of it and held it behind his back. Carrington loudly cleared his throat while he too pressed his hands together behind his back. He immediately started speaking, his thick Scottish accent showing itself in his voice.

"I hope that I've done enough to prove to you all that I'm not a violent man. I've never tried to solve problems with guns or fire or death. I've only used them when it becomes absolutely necessary for me to do. I know I've made my bitterness towards the dataDyne Corporation very clear but I never thought to embark on the path of destruction to get my point across.

"Countless times before, however, dataDyne has managed to force my hand. Ever since those years early on when I started the discussion of sharing the Institute's advancements in computer technology with dataDyne and vice versa, my relationship with dataDyne as a whole has not been able to stand its ground.

"I can still remember the reaction that Zhang Li gave when he was questioned about how dataDyne would move past the Institute's achievement of anti-gravity.

"The bad blood between our two organizations have seen harrowing heights before and I fear that this might be the truth once again.

"At 3:47 A.M. this morning, I received word that our junior training facility off the coast of Maryland was bombed and assaulted by an unknown force."

Carrington paused to sigh.

"There were no survivors.

"Everyone on the facility grounds was murdered in cold blood. Various structures on-site were blown to bits by explosives from an unknown source. The only way I was able to find out about was because an officer who investigated the scene contacted me about it.

"Now you might wonder why I might point fingers at dataDyne. It may be unjustified, but if my gut has taught me a thing or two, it's that it knows a thing or two.

"I won't make any rash decisions but I'm going to be expecting every to be on high alert. I don't have any evidence to prove it was dataDyne but something about this doesn't seem right.

"Also, expect to see some field work to be coming towards some of you. This is a highly sensitive scenario because we're dealing with merciless killers." He said. He stopped and looked at Foster.

"Mister Foster, the clipboard please." He said, extending his hand. Foster promptly delivered it. Carrington ran his finger loosely along the top sheet of paper before sighing.

"Specifically, I'd like to see Mister Steinberg to start out with. Everyone else is dismissed."

The crowd replied with a conjoined salute towards their boss before they dispersed from the hanger bay back to the main facility. Owen, Cynthia, and Henry returned to their own rooms, once again in silence. Eventually, they all instinctively stopped at the intersection of a hallway and exchanged glances.

"It's what we signed up for, wasn't it?" Owen said.

"I didn't think that a tragedy like that would shake us up," Cynthia replied.

Henry looked down one of the halls.

"It was one helluva motivation killer." He said. "I'll be in my room."

Owen and Cynthia watched Henry head down the hall and into his room. The pair again exchanged glances.

"How far do you think Carrington will go?" Owen asked.

"We'll have to see," Cynthia replied. "I'm going to go down to the firing range. Foster said he was looking for volunteers to do some live observations for some of his new experimental weapons. You can come along if you'd like.

Owen shook his head. "No, thanks, though. I think I'll go lift a few weights before I have dinner for the evening."

Cynthia nodded before the two of them departed.

The evening was quiet. Jonathan Steinberg had not been seen outside of Carrington's officesince the meeting. As Owen was in the Institute's gym, he couldn't put his whole mental drive towards his workout. He kept it a light repetition to compensate. It had been a little over six months since Owen was admitted into the Institute and he'd already found himself quite comfortable with the way of life the Institute required of him. It kept him active and social, unlike anything he'd considered previously.

Owen worked himself in the gym for almost three hours before stopping and drying himself off with a towel. He looked up at the clock on the wall and sighed at how late he had stayed where he was. The thought of retiring for the night altogether crossed his mind but something in the back of his mind told him that he wouldn't get very far.

He left the gym and took an absent-minded walk through the facility. The world outside the windows of Institute was covered in darkness and that was what Owen needed to feel tired. He stopped in front of one and let his eyes skim around what we could make out in the darkness.

"How'd the gym workout go for you?" A voice asked from behind him.

Owen turned to see Cynthia, her hair tied up and still in her standard uniform. He thought a moment before giving a nod.

"There was nothing wrong with it." He said.

"I hope it cleared your mind. Carrington wants to see you upstairs in his office." She told him.

Owen tilted his head in question. "Carrington finished talking Jonathan?" He asked.

"Yes. Carrington's got him doing something without a doubt." She replied. "He didn't drop any hints about it this time around."

Owen gave a soft sound of approval before looking at her. "What about you? He's already talked to you, hasn't he." He said.

Cynthia nodded. "It doesn't matter, though. I have a request to make of him."

"Well, thank you for finding another way to babysit me in there, then." Owen teased. "I'd be shaking in my boots without you."

Cynthia waved a hand at her before shaking her head. "Stop it. You know I'm not doing it all for you, even if you'd like to think you were the center of my attention."

Owen chuckled softly before gesturing his hand forward. "Ladies first."

Cynthia touched his shoulder. "Be careful Owen, or I might take it as you trying to woo me."

Owen again chuckled before following her to Carrington's office. A short ride up the elevator and they were standing in front of the door, neither saying a word verbally to each other. The brief looks they gave each other was more than enough to carry on the conversations, playfully of course.

After the two of them had composed themselves, Cynthia briskly knocked on the door. Carrington gave them the verbal cue to enter and they both walked into the room.

Carrington was seated behind his desk, the top transparent glass. He had only a few loose sheets of paper laid about. There was a small monitor standing up with the help of small plastic support. Carrington set the pen in his hand down and crossed his fingers.

"Oh, back again already, Miss Hall? What's the occasion?" He said, his eyebrows raised.

"A request, if I may sir. After you've briefed Owen." She replied, her hands folded in front of her.

Carrington turned his attention to Owen. "Mister Chase. I'd like you to do to me a service. I need agents with keen eyes to look around and figure out everything that over there in Maryland. You've shown yourself to be nimble and I believe that you and Miss Hall would compliment each other well."

As he said this, the two of them shared an extremely brief look at each other. Carrington didn't show that he noticed.

"It's that simple of a task." He continued. "I don't know what I should tell you to find down there because I haven't the faintest idea, so I'll trust that you'll make the most of your own wits and hopefully find out a clue or two on who was behind this."

Owen nodded. "Yes, sir." He said, before looking at Cynthia.

"Now, what was it you wanted to request, Miss Hall?" Carrington asked.

"I wanted to ask if we could have Henry Fletcher accompany us. I'm sure his talent with technology will come in handy for us at some point."

Carrington nodded almost immediately. "The three of you, then. You need to find out something otherwise, I have nothing I can do. This caught me off-guard."

The two agents nodded and stepped out of the room. Once the door was shut, Owen looked at Cynthia.

"I hope you haven't decided that you like Henry more than me," Owen said.

"Oh, please. Remember what I said, Owen?"


	3. An Early Morning Commute

Perfect Dark: Chasing Darkness

Chapter 3

After debriefing with Foster about the typical formalities involving their gear, which Owen didn't see anything special in, the team gathered into the first available jump-ship and settled in for the long haul. Even in a craft as stable as the Institute's own unique model, their pilot warned them that it would still take close to an hour due to storms impeding their path. They left the suburban Chicago area and made a direct line for Baltimore, Maryland. In an unspoken, unanimous vote, the three of them decided it was still clear enough to leave the side door open so they could stare out at the diminishing traffic. Cynthia kept her gaze at the stars, Owen, at the passing hover-cars and such, and Henry towards the ground. Cynthia broke her gaze and looked up only once. She noticed Henry.

"Henry. You'll make yourself sick if you stare down there too long." She said.

Henry did not meet her eyes but shook his head loosely. "Nah, I'm used to it. I like seeing the ground."

"You're not afraid of flying, are you?" She asked.

"Nah. The air is fine and all." Henry replied.

Cynthia looked over at Owen who only stared back before giving an unknowing shrug. Cynthia quietly let air out of her nose and eyed Owen. He raised his hands up in front of him in hope to proclaim his innocence. Cynthia begrudgingly accepted it and returned her gaze back out the side door of the aircraft, again watching the stars.

If the storm ever obstructed the path of the jump-ship, none of them ever noticed. It almost seemed as if, by the pilot telling them that it would take longer, the trip came to a conclusion too quickly. Owen admittedly found something fond about a late-night trip in an open jump-ship. He saw it as the sort of thing to do to really shake off the stress because you couldn't be stressed in such serenity. The jump-ship landed on a commercial landing pad and the three agents leaped down from their seats and stretched as if they had been in there for hours on end. The city lights of Baltimore flooded their eyes and made them squint before their pupils dilated and they were able to see without the strain.

Cynthia snarled subtly but with a menacing touch as the pilot came over to them. Owen looked at her and tried to guess what her reaction was all about. He had only to follow her gaze before the answer was as highlighted as the city lights when he first arrived.

A very lean, gaunt-faced man dressed in a dark-blue suit and tie approached them. He had a clipboard in his hands with hardly any paper in it. This man was accompanied by a much more muscular man carrying a non-lethal, pulse-powered sub-machine gun which the brute seemed to show off openly as if it were some kind of trophy to him.

Owen knew just from the recent news broadcasts that these guys were not nice guys at all. They were money-grubbing pigs and they represented one of the largest transport corporations to date. Luckily for dataDyne, Owen thought, they limited their influence purely to landing services and ground traffic. Anyone who still used ground transportation was blessed with the ability to zip across the arid land of the United States in close to a quarter of the time that someone using an aircraft could. The only difference was that unlike anti-gravity powered air transports, the surface-bound vehicles used up an extremely outrageous amount of fuel in order to achieve the level of speed they could. Anti-gravity had its limitations and could not stand to par with the hot, destructive force of friction.

The smaller of the two men had a underwhelming, sadistic, and impersonal smirk planted on his face. He didn't speak a word even after he came right up to the party, Cynthia standing in the front. The smirk did not falter even the slightest in the silence of this confrontation but eventually, the serpent-like man extended a hand forward and continued to be patient with them. Cynthia did not blink. She would deny him any form of invitation. She would make him open himself up.

The smirk even out to an impassive relaxing of his lips. He did not like the fact that he had to go to this length to accomplish this meager task. He cleared his throat, his eyes not shifting from the standoff that Cynthia had threatened.

Almost without even moving his mouth, he said, "Why don't we go ahead and get this out of the way, yes?"

Owen parted his lips slightly to breath in, continuing to watch Cynthia, though he couldn't help to steal glances at this slimy worm of a man.

That man gave a polite sigh. "Nobody respects business anymore. You are required by federal law to pay me what I'm due."

Cynthia let the worst emotion she could peek out from under its wall of stone. "Despicable." She muttered.

"Miss Hall! That's no way to describe a profound member of Alvarado Tech. We worked unquestionably hard for the position we're in today. Now, if you think there's an error, I can bring you to someone would be certainly more responsive to your complaints. I, unfortunately, cannot help you. I just want what's mine." He said. His voice was devoid of any real emotion, and there was nothing but a plastic mask of greed covering his face.

The pilot of their jump-ship moved up past the three agents and presented a thin slip of blue paper which was hanging off of one end of the pilot's PDA. The Alvarado representative kept his bat-like eyes on the partially covered face of the Institute pilot before shifting his gaze to the slip of paper for an uncomfortable amount of time. Eventually, the man slowly raised his hand and jerked the fragment of paper from its attachment. His smirked died and only a cold, malicious expression was on his face. He looked at Cynthia for a moment before bowing slightly to all of them.

"Welcome to Baltimore. I hope you enjoy your time here with us." The man said before turning his head slightly to catch the gaze of his henchman. The two of them walked away and turned the nearest corner.

The pilot pocketed his PDA and gave a salute towards Cynthia. "Mister Carrington apologies, ma'am."

Cynthia waved a hand up to ease the man's stance. "No grudge. I'm just glad that he's gone for good now."

Still, Cynthia had to invest a great amount of time to recover from the level of anxiety she was bottling up in the confrontation. Owen came up beside her now and laid a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"There's nothing respectable about business anymore." He sighed, shaking his head loosely.

"I'd love to put a bullet in the heads of some of those big tycoons. Especially that one." She said, shooting her hand up ahead of her.

Henry scratched his head. "They couldn't have originated here in Maryland." He said.

"They didn't," Cynthia replied. "They were originally a start-up in New Mexico."

"How did they get so big in a place like New Mexico? Aliens?" Henry asked.

"Exactly. Though no one was able to prove their inheritance of extraterrestrial technology, there is no way they would have been able to take the lead in mobility-related research so quickly. They did it in less than two years." Cynthia said.

The pilot's PDA went off and he slipped it out once more. Cynthia became distracted by it but shook her head.

"We'd better get going. Baltimore doesn't seem as hospitable as I remember." She said.

The three of them began walking when Henry glanced behind him and noticed the pilot wasn't following.

"Hey, pilot, you coming?" He asked.

The pilot looked up from his hand-held computer and shook his head. "No, sir. I got the call to head off somewhere else. I'll return tomorrow afternoon on standby, sir."

Henry nodded and continued with the group to the site of the Institute training facility's remains. The facility was based on the north-east corner of the town, up by the shipping yards and hanger bays that made up the bulk of exports for the Atlantic trading network with the other half of the world. In the late watches of the evening, the only vehicles around were hover-freight cargo trucks. The ground was utterly vacant. Baltimore had lost almost of its presence of factories so the air of was clean enough to see the stars above.

The entrance of the facility, made up of two light-weight fence gates and a puny security up, was occupied by the constant brushes of red and blue. The Baltimore police had taped off most of the surrounding area. The three Institute agents were still a block away before they were stopped. An officer holding a hot drink in his hands came into their paths and looked at the three of them for a moment.

"Alright, kiddos. This isn't a place for a post-college hang-out." The officer said in a thick accent.

Cynthia was about to take the reins before Owen stepped in first.

"Officer, please. Give us a moment, will you? We're not out to cause trouble. I swear. We're just looking in on the situation." Owen replied.

"There's nothing to look in at, kid. We haven't been inside. We're waiting for the detectives with the authority to handle this arrive." He said.

Owen gave an impressed look to both Henry and Cynthia before addressing the officer. "Oh, so that map of ours didn't get us lost after all. We're your guys."

The officer looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding me. You guys stargazers or something? You guys look a bit young to have bit off enough years of experience to play that role."

"Really, now. I mean, we live in a pretty accessible society here. It's easier to be a rising star nowadays. We got the recommendations too if you're really concerned. Else, we can go in there and you'll see as we go."

The officer took a swig from his drink. "Fine, I don't think there's anyone around to really give a damn, so."

They entered the facility. The aftermath of the chaos was all in pristine condition. The three agents tried to move about in the most respectful way possible as they did a brief patrol around the facility and its grounds. The smell of wet blood still lingered in the air and the burning sensation of smoke came from the charred ashes of the dock.

"This place was hit fast," Owen said, glancing around him.

"This wasn't a coincidental accident," Cynthia replied.

Owen looked over at her. "dataDyne?"

"I don't know," Cynthia replied. "It could be any rival corporation."

Henry rubbed his nose gently. "I want to take a look at the consoles around here. There's gotta be a reason why the automatic alert system failed. I mean, there's not a flood-light on anywhere around here."

Cynthia nodded. "I'm not sure if the power was cut or not."

"We won't be able to either," Owen said, following his finger along the power lines strewn over the ground. "The nervous system of this place was taken out by whatever explosion caused that down there."

"Why doesn't this place have backup power then?" Henry wondered. "Is it a new installation?"

"I don't think so," Owen replied. He peered around a corner nearby and waved Cynthia and Henry over. "That secondary hub might do you some good, Fletch."

Henry hurried over and was lifting his laptop bag over his head. He was a few steps ahead of Owen and Cynthia as he reached the front door, which was still resting wide open. Once he put his left foot on the first metal step leading inside, he froze. His mouth was slightly agape.

Owen and Cynthia caught up and peered over Henry's shoulder before they realized the two lifeless, bloodied bodies. One propped up against the farthest wall, the other was strewn across the switches, buttons, and keys of the console near the door.

"Those animals must have cleared this place pretty quick," Cynthia said.

"They didn't clear up the bodies on purpose. I'd put money down on that." Owen replied.

Henry let his two partners by so they could carefully move away the bodies. Henry was hesitant, especially with there being blood over much of the console but he sat down in the cold chair that was bolted to the floor of the security hub. He unpacked his laptop and attached a few cables between the console and his setup. It was only a matter of moments before Henry was fast away at typing.

The other two agents were left to lounge around in the small security hub. Cynthia had found herself a single spot to stand in but Owen stirred uncomfortably in the claustrophobic quarters. After a moment, he moved past Henry and then Cynthia, who stood up straight and was moving to follow him.

"Where are you going?" She asked him, folding her arms.

"Anywhere that's not this cramped piece of metal and concrete," Owen replied. "I thought I'd go down to the other smoldering security hub and have a look around."

Cynthia waved him off but then stepped outside. "I think I'll go too. I'd rather you not burn yourself down there."

Owen blew air out his mouth at her. "Really? You really think I'm that incapable?"

"No, but you'd manage it somehow. I've seen you in action before." Cynthia replied, a subtle smirk on her lips.

"Despicable." He said before taking off down the gradually-sloping facility grounds.

The original structure of the central security hub off the edge of the cliff was completely incinerated by the explosion. The only visible color was a dark orange from the remaining coals that was obscured by numerous piles of darkness. The decking that surrounded the structure was in some places still intact. Those that were facing inland and away from the initial blast of the explosion. Owen pressed one foot against a bit of decking and it crumbled beneath his touch, shattering into shreds and vanishing into the coastal waters.

"Know any foundation repair companies around here?" Owen said.

"None that would take up a job like this," Cynthia replied. "This wasn't a terrorist attack. I doubt they'd have the means of access to such destructive explosives."

"Another pointer to a big-name company rival?" Owen asked.

"You guessed it." She replied. "Are they trying to start a war with the Institute? There was absolutely no discretion involved in how they executed this attack."

"It must have been their message all along, then," Owen said. "They were after a show of force. Intimidation?"

"They're fools if they think they can get away with intimidating a man of Daniel Carrington's caliber," Cynthia replied.

"Well, like in the movies, the villain has to do something stupid to get things rolling," Owen replied.

Cynthia raised a hand above her eyes and stared out at the horizon across the water. "It was certainly one of your better lectures."

Owen crossed his arms, following Cynthia's gaze. "It was one I had actually put some practice into." He said. "I don't know what we're looking for. I mean, the explosion obviously came from the sea."

"I'm wondering how it got past the radar. The Institute's set up the same radar system at all of their facilities. It's top of the line and very unlikely for anything to get past it." Cynthia said.

"A long-range torpedo would have been able to hit the shore even after being noticed. A couple of night-shift guards aren't faster than a torpedo." Owen replied.

Cynthia walked away from the hub and along the coast, constantly peering over the railing at the cliff side. She could make out the small metal caps embedded in the rock.

"None of the alarms went off until the bomb hit the hub. A torpedo would have still triggered the flares. Whatever hit the hub managed to get past it." Cynthia said.

"So they've got a high-powered launcher. All it does it makes our job harder." Owen replied.

"The bomb would've been tripped up by the water resistance regardless of how much force they pumped out," Cynthia said.

Owen rolled his neck before looking up behind him. "Henry might be able to get us an idea of how it all happened, though. He may have even found videos."

The two of them trekked up the facility grounds towards the security hub. After a brief period of silence, Owen scanned the tops of the perimeter walls. Cynthia shifted her eyes towards him.

"I didn't think you're fear of ninja's would get the better of you, Owen," Cynthia said with a soft laugh.

Owen snapped a glare at her. "That is not what's going on here." He said quickly. "I'm wondering where the cops are."

Cynthia furrowed her eyebrows. "You can probably guess what that means." She said before picking up in speed.

The two agents reached the open door of the security hub and were greeted by a wave from Henry.

"You two enjoy yourselves out there?" He said, rolling side to side in the chair.

Owen gave the young techie a glare. "And how effectively have you used your time in

here, huh?"

"I don't know. Just uncovered an interesting situation with the CTV footage." Henry replied, spinning the chair so his body was resting in front of the console. He pressed a few keys on the control board before the surveillance screen came to life with the filtered vision of various cameras.

All of the cameras operated normally with the clock speedily counting each passing moment, then complete darkness on all of the camera screens. Henry pressed another key and it skipped about half an hour. The vision of the cameras returned to show scorch marks, small pieces of rubble, and bodies scattered about the facility.

"Great. We haven't got a clue then." Owen said. "They've wiped the footage."

Henry shook his head. "No, not quite." He said. "This console didn't show any signs of tampering. This has EMP written all over it."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "When did they drop that? It had to have been before the strike from the water."

"Except the people here would have been alerted and better prepared for what was to come," Cynthia replied.

Henry leaned back in the chair and swayed gently. "I'd like to see if I can't compare some log files in the system before we go."

All three of the agents froze in silence. Cynthia turned to the door and waited. Owen glanced between his two partners. A moment more and Henry was out of the chair without a sound. Cynthia took a point and led them around to the other side of the hub. She waved her hand downwards and the three agents dropped down beneath the window. Only Cynthia was slightly on her feet and looking in. As she was looking in, a group of men dressed in the same dark black, military-style attire and armed with equal grade weaponry entered into the small hub. Henry stole a peek at them, fell back down onto the rough grass, and softly cursed at himself.

Owen and Cynthia looked briefly at each other before looking back at the men inside. One of them paced back and forth in the small room before another pointed at the computer screen. They all nodded at each other and raised their weapons. Two of the men heading out the door and the other now checking the windows.

The Institute agents had already taken the hint and moved on away from the security hub, following the outer wall. Owen took up the rear and was constantly checking behind them. He saw large floodlights turn on so he hurried ahead beside Henry. The two silently exchanged glances. The two of them had the same question.

Cynthia led the two of them back to the ruined security hub, now following the edge of the cliff side. She slowed down amongst a clump of trees growing together before stopping to address her followers.

"There's only one other outside entrance that I was able to notice while we were here. Otherwise, we're going to have to exit through the main facility and that is a close-quarters encounter I don't want to have to deal with." Cynthia said.

"We should just scale the wall here," Owen replied, looking up at the wall.

"No good." She replied. "Only two of us would be able to get across. That wall is too high for one climber to make it."

"Why don't we just find a really tall box, then?" Owen said.

Cynthia shushed him before pointing ahead. "This is the way we're going to get out of here, deal with it."

Owen conceded and followed her as close to the ground as he could go. Henry was now in the rear and had developed the same habit as Owen.

Cynthia cursed and came to a stop just a few feet short of coming out into the open. Owen circled around to the side of her and looked out. The outside exit they had hoped for had men stationed at either side.

Owen turned to Cynthia, his eyes asking the question but Cynthia shook her head. He would have objected but only shook his head back at her. From their position in the grasses against the wall right by the outside exit, Cynthia gestured at an angle to the outdoor firing range. The other two agents nodded and the three shuffled out of the cover of the foliage and silently sprinted across to the wooden half walls that made up the perimeter of the range. They hugged the edge all the way around until a set of two armed men obstructed their path.

Owen asked the same question. This time, after a brief moment of Cynthia's own debate, the answer was affirmative. Henry opted out so Cynthia and Owen emerged quickly from their cover and brought down the two men, pressing forcefully against their throats. The full-body suit offered the men little protection from a physical attack. Eventually, they stopped squirming in place. Cynthia and Owen exchanged nods and they and Henry moved on.

They had reached the side of the main facility building, which included the dormitory of the rookie agents. The inside of the building was only partially lit up with the hallways being the primary focus. There was a scarce number of guards within the building. Owen and Cynthia repeated the same take-down without any issues while Henry stayed back and made sure they did not get an unexpected visitor. The front hallway of the building which was their end-goal was heavily concentrated with men on various electronics.

Owen pulled Cynthia back away from the corner, pointing at it.

"They're idiots to have this many people back here." He said.

Cynthia's eyes fluttered downwards in thought. "They forgot something." She said.

"Us?" Owen asked.

"I don't know." She replied. "These guys might not even be who we're thinking of."

Owen nodded and gestured forward. Cynthia reluctantly approached the corner and peered around it before pulling back and resting against the wall.

"This is going to be a tricky one." She said.

"Flash-bang?" Owen asked.

"No. They'll still have us shot before we make it to the other side of the street." She replied.

"A firefight will get us the same thing, Cyn." He said.

"I know! I'm not daft enough to try that." She said before peering around the corner once more. She then looked at her belt. "How about an N-bomb?"

"Throw one of those then we can run and gun," Owen replied.

Cynthia nodded and slipped out an N-bomb from her belt and tossed it gently in her hand. She took one last look between Owen and Henry before flipping the pin off with her thumb and flying around the corner in order to launch it. She immediately dived back into the opposite side of the corner for cover.

The hallway went pitch black as a horrible deep drowning sound conquered every other noise. It lasted a few seconds while painful moans were heard. When the noise dissipated, the three agents dashed around the corner in an arrowhead formation, their falcons in their hands, and started firing at the men. Many of them dropped while other flopped into cover. The agents sprinted through the single door-frame and down the sidewalk. They moved even faster when the sound of Dragon fire came from behind, bullets impacting the concrete beside them.

The men did little in giving pursuit. Once the three of them had turned the corner, they were out of harm's way for the moment.

Cynthia held the group up in an alleyway and pulled out her PDA. She dialed the Institute and Carrington picked up.

"Sir. We found a serious problem with the scene in Baltimore." Cynthia said quickly. "There are some armed men determined to cover up that attack."

"Did you manage to determine their origin," Carrington said, his voice raspy over the small speaker.

Cynthia glanced at Henry and Owen before looking back down at the tiny device. "No, sir. Our getting out of there was of top priority for us in the heat of the moment."

"Don't bury yourselves too far. Jonathan managed to help us out in that department." Carrington replied. "He returned not even an hour ago. I've dispatched an emergency jump-ship to have you arrive here before dawn. Carrington out."

Cynthia's eyes widened at the device emitting a beep then going dark. "He didn't even ask if we're okay." She said as an afterthought.

Owen smirked. "We wouldn't be calling if we weren't alright."


	4. Relaxation & Consideration

Perfect Dark: Chasing Darkness

Chapter 4

The three operatives were out of breath and tired from the tense waiting that they had been put through while the emergency jump-ship was en route. Cynthia, sitting in the same alleyway with Owen and Henry, perked her ears up at every sound. Owen watched her silently, edging towards a worried sort of panic for her. Baltimore produced one nasty sound that had Cynthia vying to leap up on her feet but Owen placed a hand on her arm and looked at her softly.

"You're going to give yourself a heart attack, Cyn." He whispered after a small noise of laughter.

Cynthia sighed softly. "Cityscapes should be reserved for horror films."

"Ah, you wouldn't say that about Chicago, now would you?" He asked.

"The Institute's little slice of suburban Chicago is heavenly. The rest should be treated the same." She replied.

"I'm sure it's a much better place around here in the daylight." He said.

Cynthia shook her head. "It goes underground." She said. "Besides, we haven't anything from the real side of the city and I'm already sick of it."

"It's the adrenaline wearing off," Owen replied.

"My uncle lived up in northern Baltimore," Henry said. "He managed to come out of it alive."

"That's the trick right there. He managed." Cynthia said. "How long ago was that?"

"Ahm, seven years..." He replied.

Cynthia looked away briefly to cover rolling her eyes.

It was silence between the three agents until the pilot of their craft called to arrange the location of the rendezvous. The agents made it to the jump-ship without an issue. Then came the prolonged, nerve-busting ride back to the Institute, though Cynthia rolled her shoulders back in relief, which in turn relieved Owen.

Owen turned his head towards Henry. The young technician had his PDA resting in his lap and he was constantly reviewing the footage he'd taken. Owen's mouth twitched slightly but he said nothing.

The return trip thankfully felt faster to the Institute operatives. As the jump-ship hovered down onto the outside helipad of the Institute, the agents were in the processing of standing. Owen leaped down before the ship had gotten a chance to stabilize itself. He immediately began to work on stretching out his muscles.

The destructive roaring of the jump-ship engine halted. Cynthia and Henry entered out. Owen looked at his two partners before fixing the cuff of his outfit.

"It was a captivating trip, wasn't it?" He said.

"Yes. I don't think I'm quite up for another trip like that tonight." Cynthia replied, taking the lead of the trio and heading up the narrow, sloped corridor into the Institute building.

The sudden transition from the mellow darkness of the outside to the eye-piercing lights of the inside was hard for the agents. They each put their hands up in a small tent over their eyes while they headed through the stillness of the Institute's bottom floor. There wasn't a living soul to make a noise other than the footsteps of the agents themselves.

Henry reached the elevator first and stopped short of the glass door. He stood nervously for a moment before looking to Cynthia and Owen.

"I'd hate to break the silence with a wheezing box of glass like that." He said.

"It makes you wonder why Carrington didn't put stairs up to the second-floor offices over here," Cynthia replied.

"There are no stairs because his office is up there," Owen said, the faintest smirk hiding in his mouth.

Cynthia made a noise of disapproval. "It'd be interesting to see your reaction if he found out you said something like that."

Owen sighed. "I'm afraid that you might enjoy a thing like that too much."

Owen reached over and pressed the elevator's call button. The glass box shifted into life as it began it's decent to the ground floor. The box settled down and let forth a fine-tuned beat before the glass doors slide open softly, then silence returned. The three agents exchanged glances amongst each other before they stepped onto the floor of the enclosed box.

The elevator repeated itself and the agents stepped off of it. They gradually made their way to the door of Carrington's office. Owen slowed to look out over the empty marble floor below before turning his head towards Carrington's office.

"He's still awake, isn't he?" He asked, raising himself up with his hands and returning to his two companions.

"I would hope he is," Cynthia said. "Now, how he might look is another matter."

Owen hurried up ahead of the other two and gently knocked on the door. The other two agents stopped just a little behind Owen. Owen waited before knocking again.

His hand had barely lifted away from the second knock when Carrington's burly accent came through the door.

"Just a moment. I'm coming around." He said. His footsteps could be heard trailing across the floor of his office. A moment later, and the door slid open. Carrington, dressed out of his usual tweed suit and in a scarlet bathrobe, stood before the three agents.

"Sir," Cynthia said casually, "We weren't sure if you were awake or not. I hope we didn't disturb you."

Carrington waved his hand down towards her. "Don't worry about it, Miss Hall. I'm used to these sort of visits. I'd probably talk your ear off about how I'm never able to sleep when I've got agents out where it's dangerous." He paused a moment to look at the faces of the three agents. "Well. I hope you didn't have too much too much of an issue getting out of Baltimore."

Cynthia nodded. "Only a minor disturbance, sir." She said.

Carrington gave a portly laugh. "Yes, of course. It was certainly just minor when you called me a few hours ago."

Cynthia's gaze dropped slightly. "I'm very relieved to be away from there, yes." She said.

"She handled it very professionally despite the circumstances, sir," Owen said.

Again, Carrington gave a laugh, only smaller. "Mister Chase seems to have your back, Miss Hall. I knew I was doing good in pairing you two up." He said. "Well, feel free to come in. I'm quite curious to know how everything went for you down there."

Carrington turned around and went to sit down in a light blue, cushioned seat on one side of the glass table that was resting in the middle of the office room. The three agents waited until Carrington had settled in before taking their own seats. Carrington reclined back against the chair, gently tilting it with his heels as leverage.

"There's no need to get nervous about being in the boss's office. It's after hours anyway." He said. "You mentioned you were attacked?"

Cynthia nodded. "Men in almost full military attire. The whole nine yards. They even had dataDyne-issue Dragon assault rifles. I don't know what else could scream their involvement."

Carrington scratched the top of his nose. "The Dragon assault rifle is a commercial firearm, Miss Hall. Anyone could potentially get their hands on that kind of firepower."

Cynthia gently bit her lip in thought. "Yes. I suppose that's true. They seemed to appear out of nowhere, though. They were able to clear out the local police with little issue."

"I don't think that the police were there to actually investigate the place," Owen said.

"They let us in without doing any checks whatsoever, then they vanish. I think they were just eyes for a larger beast."

Carrington rested a hand on his lips and nodded. "Someone has the local police in their pocket over there is what you're saying." He said. "And what about the facility?"

"Terrible," Cynthia replied. "The explosive that hit the coastal security hub packed both a destructive, high-powered bomb combined with an Electromagnetic Pulse. It managed to knock out all the cameras." She said.

"Our attackers were smart but messy," Henry said. "I found the other security hub's computer shot up to high heavens, but I was still able to access everything through my laptop."

"Good. Grimshaw will be able to help you with everything involving that tomorrow." Carrington replied. He was silent for a moment before a look of contemplation on his face. "And where did the bomb come from?"

"The explosive had to have come from the sea. Though, I don't know of any craft that can fire off a torpedo or anything like that at such a speed that it would get past a perimeter sensor of the Institute's magnitude." Cynthia said. "I don't know of a bomb that contains both EMP and highly dangerous explosives either."

Carrington gave a conclusive nod. "Well, thank you agents. I'll get back to you on our next plan of action. You all look very tired and I'd hate to detain you from what little rest that you can get."

Carrington stood and gestured to the door. Owen and Henry left through the door without an objection, though Cynthia hung by the open door for a moment. She looked in at Carrington.

"Sir. I think the Alvarado Corporation might be getting out of hand over there in Maryland. Do you think they might have something to do with it?" She asked.

Carrington looked back at her and shook her head. "I certainly hope not. They're a den of vipers I'd not liked to get mixed in with." His eyes went downcast in thought for a moment before he shook his head again. "Goodnight, Miss Hall. We'll worry about it in the morning."

The remaining hours of the dark ticked away as the agents slumbered in their respective rooms. There was no disturbance until the sun returned to their side of the world for about an hour. The intercoms awoke the agents with its high-pitched screening noise before Carrington became the first person in the morning to greet the Institute's populous.

"Things have gone desperately on us. Report to the hanger bay."

Owen rose up from his reclined position to rub his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed at the noise. He felt groggy as he got onto his feet and took a few steps. He tripped over his feet and immediately crouched down. He sighed, shaking his head slightly with his hand holding it. He went to his suite's bathroom and splashed some water on his face before preparing himself.

When he stepped out into the hallway, he looked down the hall and saw Cynthia heading towards him. She had an expectant look on her face. Owen rose an eyebrow at her.

"Already figured out what the whole deal is?" He asked.

"I've got a few ideas, yes," Cynthia replied. "How was your sleep?"

He gave a short laugh. "I'd hardly call it that. Hell, it was barely a nap."

She flashed her eyes to the left corner while shaking her head. "You might as well get used to it."

He nodded. "Yeah. We're in the long haul for this one."

The two of them walked to the hanger bay. Owen went with a curious eye about him this time. Cynthia looked over at him briefly and now raised her own eyebrow.

"Something different?" She asked.

"Yeah. Kinda." He replied.

Owen and Cynthia were early in reaching the hanger. Foster and Carrington were talking brief to each other as the two agents approached. Carrington looked at them from the corner of his eye and turned slightly to address them.

"It seems our attacker did not stop to rest last night," Carrington replied.

"Another one of our facilities?" Owen asked.

Carrington shook his head faintly before looking back to Foster.

"After this, arrange a meeting with them." He said. "We're going to need to touch bases, regardless of how inconvenient that would end up being for them."

Foster nodded. "The closed channel, I would presume?"

"No doubt about it," Carrington replied. "I don't need a third party of theirs eavesdropping on us."

"dataDyne might be in slight disarray. They were in the middle of the nominations for their new CEO in place of Chang-Li." Foster replied.

"We'll see how they mention it when I talk to them," Carrington replied.

He turned to the two agents. "I fear my immediate suspicions were wrong." He said.

"dataDyne might not be the one behind it."

"That would be better for us, wouldn't it?" Owen asked.

"Relationship-wise, yes," Carrington replied. "I just hope they'll cooperate."

Carrington looked passed the two agents at the mass of agents pouring onto the hanger bay floor. He took the clipboard from Foster's hand and started flipping through the papers. Foster looked at Carrington with a slight interest and surprise. The two agents took a few steps back in order to mark where the head of the crowd would form.

Carrington performed his signature clearing of his throat before he began.

"As you are all aware, we've had a very tragic situation take place on one of our facilities." He said. "Unfortunately, we know very little about our attackers except for what information a few of our agents managed to collect from what was left."

He sighed.

"It would seem while we doing what we could here, our attacker decided to pick a different target. This time, our attacker picked the dataDyne Corporation. One of their warehouses based outside of Baltimore and everything inside was completely destroyed in the same manner as how our facility was hit."

He shuffled through a number of sticky notes plastered to the front of the clipboard.

"I've arranged a meeting with dataDyne in order to see what the best way to handle this is in the case of future attacks." He said. "Thank you for your continued effort. Dismissed."

After a few long minutes, the hanger was empty except for the original four. Carrington looked to Owen and Cynthia. "I'll want you two in the room with me when I begin the meeting. It'll be a good briefing for your next assignment." He said.

Owen and Cynthia furrowed their eyebrows.

"Sir?" Cynthia asked.

"Yes. Another assignment. I'll disclose the details with you afterward." Carrington said, waving them off. "Grimshaw wanted me to send you two his way. Meet me at my office when you're finished."

As Owen and Cynthia headed away from Carrington, Owen couldn't help but scratch the back of his neck curiously, glancing over at Cynthia.

"It should be interesting to see Carrington work with dataDyne first-hand." He said.

She lightly shrugged. "I'm thinking it's gonna boil down to being a contest to see who can throw around the most insults to each other."

He laughed. "No hope for diplomacy, huh?"

She raised her eyebrows incredulously and shook her head. "Nah, only Carrington will be respectable through the whole thing."

"Come on, isn't it a bad thing to underestimate your enemy?" He replied.

"Yes, I probably should not do it, but I can't help but feel Carrington will be able to wrap them around his finger." She said.

"If that were the truth, then Carrington wouldn't have had to go to all this trouble to figure out what the hell happened down there in Maryland," Owen replied.

"What he just told us is enough to guarantee that it's a third party who's responsible, not dataDyne," Cynthia replied.

"dataDyne might know more than we do," Owen replied.

Cynthia laughed. "I don't believe I could put that kind of faith in them."

Owen's mouth twitched downward. The two agents made their way up to the second

floor and headed to the very far right of the building to Grimshaw's office.

Owen slid open the door and moved out of the way. Cynthia moved past him and stopped when she reached the center of the room, shifting her weight to one leg and crossing her arms. Grimshaw and Henry were huddled around one of the desktop computers, their backs facing Owen and Cynthia. They had completed missed the door opening and busied themselves repeating various pieces of camera footage and basking in the glory of various computer footage.

Cynthia cleared her throat, but that too was unnoticed. The two programmers only shifted slightly at the sound of her. Cynthia twisted her torso and looked back at Owen, who responded with a simple shrug.

"You two can cuddle with your computers later," Cynthia said.

Grimshaw turned around now, a threatened look on his face. "Oh, please. These aren't even the make or model I'd think of doing that with." He said.

Cynthia's eyes widened subtly before she quickly shook it off. "The video from Maryland." She said.

Grimshaw nodded. "Yes, that. Well, the video is worthless." He said. "We did manage to find something on the audio side of things, however. Very good stuff."

Henry spun around in the computer chair he was sitting in and smiled at Owen and

Cynthia. "It might be enough to get an idea who we're dealing with."

"Wonderful. Let's hear it." Cynthia said, her arms crossed and a gentle foot tapping impatiently.

Again, Henry spun around and touched his fingers to the keyboard, not letting Grimshaw interfere when he tried. Eventually, the computer screen came up with the few seconds before the facility security cameras went dark. Henry dramatically pressed down on the space bar and sat back in the chair.

The audio was dominated solely by the screams and terror that filled the night of the attack. Owen and Cynthia couldn't help but stand uncomfortably while listening to it.

Henry seemed to dance about in his chair as the chaos eventually faded out and the clip ended.

Owen and Cynthia stared down Henry in confusion, who tilted his head in reply. "You didn't hear it?" He asked. He pressed a few keys and the same thing occurred, the terror being the only sounds the two agents could recognize.

Cynthia began to frown. Henry sighed at the sight of it. "Sorry, I might have gotten carried away. Here." He said, pressing a few buttons then cracking up the volume of the computer's speakers. All of them in the room cringed slightly at the louder, horrific sounds, but in the last few seconds of the clip, they caught the voices of living people.

Cynthia shook her head, turning her head so her ear was directed towards the speakers.

Henry bobbed in the chair a bit until it was over. He rose up and clicked the mouse a few times. "I've made it a little clearer now." He said.

The voices at the end of the clip seemed as if they were coming off from just shy of the left side, making the audio even more difficult to discern.

"The hand-held radar turn anything up?" A deep voice asked.

"Yes sir," a lighter voice replied. "We've got multiple signatures alright, but no idea where they are."

"Why?"

There was a moment of silence before they began talking again. The deeper voice started.

"Damn. I want something stronger then. I also want all the exits guarded until we catch these guys. They're no doubt Carrington Institute agents like we were informed."

"Should we fire on sight, sir?" The lighter voice asked.

"Yes! They are without a doubt armed and extremely dangerous. Carrington agents are nothing like dataDyne ones. Terminate them with extreme prejudice."

The camera finished its loop and the video returned, but the voices were gone.

Cynthia widened her eyes slowly in interest. "Well. That certainly narrows it down."

Owen crossed his arms. "Don't forget the officers could have also turned us into whomever."

Cynthia shook her head. "Regardless. I'm still firmly set on my own deductions."

"I'm not saying it isn't," Owen replied.

Grimshaw watched the exchange carry on for a several minutes before clearing his wheezy, high-pitched throat and rubbing his head with his hand.

"I'm sorry, but I must have missed the memo." He said. "What are you two going on about?"

Owen tilted his head towards Grimshaw. "Cynthia believes the culprit is the Alvarado Corporation and it's all because we had a run-in with one of those parking goons when we first arrived in Maryland."

Grimshaw scratched the side of his head before looking to Cynthia. "Alvarado, huh?" He asked to himself. "I've got some dirt on those guys."

Cynthia took a few steps closer to the computer monitors. "Really, I'm intrigued now."

"Yeah, yeah." Grimshaw mused, clicking around the desktop of the computer. "Here.

They've gone through some massive management rotations in the last month."

"That explains a lot," Cynthia replied.

Grimshaw gave a wheezy, loud sigh. "Well, no, it doesn't. I've only got what the media managed to dig up."

"Still, every bit counts, huh?" Cynthia said.

"I guess that the Alvarado Corporation is our prime suspect for all of this," Owen said.

"We're about to find out if dataDyne has gotten near to the same conclusion."

Henry spun around in his chair. "We should at least be relieved for Carrington. He doesn't have to assume dataDyne is the immediate enemy now."

Owen shook his head. "No, Carrington will still be on the alert. You never know what dataDyne might try, especially if they get provoked too far."

Cynthia shrugged. "It should be quite interesting to see what Carrington has pieced together for himself based off of what we've brought him."

Grimshaw chuckled softly. "Sure. If you think Daniel is as far in the dark on these matters as you believe."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow.

Grimshaw rolled his eyes. "Daniel has been around longer than you have. He probably has it all figured out, knowing him."

Owen smirked quickly. "That's some confidence you have in your boss, Stanley. I didn't think you had the drive to come out like that."

Grimshaw responded by raising his arms into the air and putting them behind his head so that he could stretch.

"Unlike you," he said. "I actually believe my work environment has value."


	5. Conversations Between Colleagues

Perfect Dark: Chasing Darkness

Chapter 5

Carrington lifted the small, cream-colored coffee mug off of the slender, three-legged table and brought it to his lips. His eyes parted briefly from the screen projected onto the wall, a bland waiting panel which would eventually become the way that Carrington would have his discussion with dataDyne. Once he had gotten the liquid down his throat, he sighed.

Foster had told him that getting dataDyne to capitulate to the point of at least agreeing to a video conference was a battle in its own right. Carrington let out a soft, humorous noise before shaking his head at the stubbornness of dataDyne. He set the coffee mug a little too harshly onto the side table, which caused him to sigh again. He rubbed his beard-like stubble for a few moments.

Foster entered, taking light and rapid steps over to the computer monitors. He took a few moments to click away before straightening out and turning around to face his boss.

"They've taken notice, sir. We should be underway any moment now." Foster said.

Carrington waved a hand at him. "Good, good. The sooner we've dealt with this whole mess, the better. How about the agents?"

Foster nodded. "They're on their way. They were in the middle of their evening meal."

"I doubt they'll mind. It'll be a beneficial experience for them," Carrington replied, laughing softly.

Foster shrugged slightly. "Cynthia Hall seemed most excited about it."

Carrington threw up his eyebrows before furrowing them. "That young lady has some strong opinions. She probably will be looking for me to back them up for her."

Foster nodded. "She'll probably enjoy observing this whole play then."

Carrington gave a lighthearted glare at him. "Oh, Lawrence Foster! Why don't you have some professionalism about yourself, yes?" He said, giving a hearty laugh.

Foster turned his head away in faint embarrassment before typing away at the computer once more. A few seconds later and he stopped to adjust his glasses before looking up at Carrington. "How do you plan to go about convincing them to cooperate."

Carrington shook his head. "I don't, Foster." He said.

Foster tilted his back in question at his boss before shrugging it off and typing once more. Carrington raised his eyebrows in expectation before huffing some air out at Foster's silence. "What? Are you not going to ask me anything else, Foster?"

Foster raised his hand and laid it flat towards Carrington. "I'll my questions be answered as we go along, sir."

Carrington gave him an incredulous look before shrugging towards him. "Suit yourself, just be sure not to make yourself look like a fool in the middle of the discussion.

Foster widened his eyes before looking away and back down at his keyboard. "I promised it wouldn't happen again. I did it to myself."

Carrington chuckled. "That you did!" He said. "You should count your blessings, Foster, you caught me in a good mood that day, and I'm in relatively high spirits now, given the recent events."

Foster nodded as he worked, his eyes not looking towards Carrington's. "Yes, that was one of my luckier days without a doubt."

Carrington gave a single, firm nod. "Good, glad we have that covered." He looked behind him at the door. "Now, where are those agents you promised me?"

Foster furrowed his eyebrows in thought before looking towards the doorway as well. "I was sure they were on their way. I don't know what could be keeping those three." Foster shook his head slightly. "I suppose Cynthia Hall's punctual nature has-"

"Don't you say it, Foster," Cynthia replied, pulling herself through the door.

Carrington raised his eyebrows in amusement. "You've been cut short again, Foster." He said, chuckling softly.

"I apologize. The two gentlemen were childishly arguing with each other." She said.

"Oh, really now? I didn't think that those two would find the field of debate interesting enough to do it over eating." Carrington chuckled. Foster threw a glance at Carrington, a skeptical look on his face before he shook his head at himself.

Cynthia smiled and shook her head. "I'd hardly call them interested in it. It was immature, at best."

Carrington smiled softly before waving his hand down towards her. "Well, spare me the details. We need to get started here before dataDyne has a reason to complain about us making them wait."

Cynthia turned around, crossing her arms. She furrowed her eyebrows before leaning out of the doorway and glancing down either end of the hallway. Her eyes found Owen and Henry in another heated discussion. She failed at suppressing the urge to laugh, drawing the attention of the two agents who stopped mid-discussion to look at her as if she had seen something she wasn't supposed to have seen.

Owen narrowed his vision onto her before clearing his throat. "We're in the middle of something." He said. "We'll be finished in a few moments."

Cynthia laughed more. "Shall I tell that to your boss?" She asked, a wide smirk on her face.

Owen glared at her before looking back at Henry. They exchanged a secret message to each other just with a look and a synced nod of their heads before they both walked into the room, ignoring the incredulous look on Cynthia's face and the smile on Carrington's.

Carrington chuckled softly as well. "So, it's good that the two of you are making the most of your relaxation."

"We've been productive, sir," Henry said, nodding as he drifted towards the computers Foster was using as his own cubical.

"I would not doubt that for a minute. Your work ethic is beyond that of many others!" Carrington said, nodding.

"Are you going to need us to help deal with dataDyne?" Henry asked. "I bet I could hack into their network, given the right equipment and access and such."

Carrington shook his head. "We don't need to infuriate them any more than they already are." He said. "Just hang tight and try to pay attention."

A little green light started to blink above the projector screen before one of the video slots burst to life with the face of a young, fair-haired, tall man appeared before them, the slot on the screen automatically resizing to fit the full resolution. All the occupants on Carrington's side stared at the screen intently. It took a few moments for the dataDyne technicians to finalize everything on their end but eventually, the man cleared his throat.

Carrington took the cue, sliding his hands behind his back and slowly inflating his chest. "You have a face I've not seen before, lad."

The man tightened the cuff of his cream-colored suit before nodding. "I'll be filling as dataDyne's representative in this matter, Mister Carrington."

Carrington chuckled softly. "Oh, so you know me, but I haven't got the slightest clue who I'm addressing?"

"Arden Phillips." The man replied, pressing his finger gently against the edge of his eyebrow in thought.

"Terrible time for dataDyne to go through a shift in power, don't you think, Mister Phillips?" Carrington said.

"The current state of our cooperate leadership is not what you contacted us for, Mister Carrington," Phillips said.

"I know that. I was just trying to strike up a friendly conversation." He said. "I see that the gravity of the situation hasn't lightened your mood any."

"Why should it, Mister Carrington?" He asked, centering his eyes on the Institute's founder. "There have been lives lost. That is nothing to be optimistic about in the slightest."

Carrington's lips curved downward in response, his figure tensing slightly before he loosened himself with a heavy breath. "Fine, to business, then."

Phillips looked to his left, somewhere off camera, before his gaze returned to the Carrington. "What little you know about this terrorist, we want to know."

"That's one part of our cooperation, yes," Carrington replied. "I do hope that our discussion here doesn't boil down to a flat deal, in essence, Mister Phillips."

"What is it that you would request, then?" Phillips said.

"Ah. I want your theories." Carrington said.

"Pardon, sir?" Phillips asked, tilting the ends of his eyebrows downward.

"You're pardoned, sir, but regardless. You now know what I'd want." Carrington replied, leaning forward slightly before rocking backward.

"That sounds like a ploy for information!" Phillips replied.

Carrington shook his head. "I want your opinions, not your facts."

Phillips looked off to his right, leaning that direction before whispering something to someone off camera. A moment later and he returned to address Carrington. "I hope you would expect us to take pride in our own judgments, Mister Carrington." The fair-haired man replied. "So we want something in return."

Carrington raised an eyebrow. "Yes, what could that be, then?"

Phillips smirked for a brief moment before lifting his face up slightly. "We want a guarantee that the Institute will not threaten us in any way while we work to find this terrorist."

"Easily done," Carrington replied. "That's all?"

Phillips paused a moment before looking at Carrington directly. "We also would like to know everything that your undercover agent was able to scrape up on us. That would be a good gauge for how vulnerable we are."

The tension in the room engulfed the room as if it had been dropped like a grenade upon them. Henry and Foster both had their eyes burst open as they stared at the screen, Owen frowned, and Cynthia set her eyes onto Carrington, expecting his response. He did not seem to move the slightest at the dataDyne's request, though his vision did narrow considerably, drawing into focus the man on the screen alone.

A moment passed before Carrington nodded. "It will be done. I'll expect to hear from you tonight." He said, before nodding to Foster, who began typing away at the keyboard of his computer.

"Thank you, Mister Carrington. I knew you would understand." Phillips said, before being shrunk into darkness as the video service cut and the projector was shut off.

Carrington stood in silence for several moments, casually pushing himself off the ground with the balls of his feet and falling back down. "That is a pity." He said.

"What does it mean, sir?" Cynthia asked, tilting her head down in disbelief, but keeping her eyes on Carrington.

"Well. I believe I already know." Carrington replied. "That doesn't matter really. Right now, we've got more important things to focus on."

Cynthia sighed softly to herself. "Steinberg is the best." She said.

Carrington turned and nodded at her. "That is true."

"How did he mess up, then?" Cynthia replied.

"They were expecting him," Carrington said. "It does not change much. dataDyne knew ahead of time that I'd immediately look to them. I don't know who is running the show up there, but they know a thing or two about how our relationship causes me to operate."

"Are you going to tell Jonathan he was compromised?" Cynthia asked.

Carrington opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Owen taking a step forward. "This is absurd. That guy didn't even give any proof that they knew Jonathan was there. He had to have been bluffing."

Carrington replied with a shake of his head. "Oh, no, they knew he was there." He said, meeting Owen's gaze for a brief moment before sighing. "I understand that you don't believe and you very well shouldn't, but I've been around here long enough to know when they're not bluffing. dataDyne never changes in that regard. I'll explain it to you another time. As for now, you are all going to get dressed up for a dinner party tonight."

"A dinner party, sir?" Cynthia asked, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

Carrington nodded. "Yes. dataDyne were originally staging a celebration for their shareholders and investors tonight to commemorate their newest partnership." He said.

Cynthia sighed. "They're supposed to reveal who their partner is tonight."

"Yes, but we've also got an ulterior motive for going there tonight," Carrington replied. "No doubt that dataDyne will slip a few secrets about other projects that the investors would potentially be funding. I'm expecting that there will be some good information given out and I'm going to need someone there to report it back to me. I can't send Jonathan for obvious reasons, but he'll be available for any advice or assistance you three might need."

Cynthia gave a nod but Owen crossed his arms and took a few steps forward. "Hold on, they just saw us!"

Carrington nodded. "Yes, they did."

"It's suicide to send us then. They'll recognize us." Owen replied quickly.

Carrington gave a smirk. "Yes, and that was something that I wanted." He said.

"How could you want that? You want them to know who to look for?" Owen said.

"It's a risk, yes," Carrington replied, earning an eye-roll from Owen. "That doesn't change the facts. I'd be thoroughly shocked if dataDyne did not expect me to have eyes at that party but that's beside the point. I'd also be shocked if they thought I'd be daft enough to send in people they'd recognize. They also now know that you are novices, which works to our advantages. The chances of any of you being able to perform on the same level as Jonathan is extremely minute."

Owen crossed his arms and sighed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss."

Carrington cleared his throat before looking at Owen. "That doesn't change the fact that you are capable agents in your own right." He said.

The other agents looked at each other before returning their attention to Carrington.

"How would we get into the party?" Cynthia asked.

Carrington smiled subtly. "You will get into the party just like everyone else." He said. "You will go through the front door."

The three agents looked doubtfully at each other. Carrington watched, his eyes bright as they saw the three agents silently deliberate between themselves. Cynthia turned finally, the brief conversation over.

"Just tell us everything we need to do and we'll get it done." She said. "You know my position on dataDyne, sir."

Carrington nodded. "I've already told you that I want to know who their newest partner is, but I also want you to see if you can find anything out about what attacked our facility and dataDyne's as well. Of course, I don't know anything about the alleged attack, so knowing the extent of the damage would be a satisfactory little bit of information."

"Simply a reconnaissance mission, then." Cynthia nodded. "That doesn't sound like a probably to me."

"Good. Grimshaw will have special identification cards for you upstairs. That should help you get into many of the reserved places at the party tonight. You can already expect that it's going to be held at the Lucerne Tower." He said.

"Anything to worry about with the surveillance and security?" Cynthia asked.

Carrington shook his head. "You should be fine as long as you don't attract too much-unwanted attention. You're going in as observers, not actors. Jonathan or I will let you know if anything changes regarding that."

The three agents took a few moments before nodding at their boss. Carrington returned the nod and gave them a professional smile. "Good. You leave in four hours so make use of your time wisely. Foster will have equipment ready for you and Jonathan will be around to fill you in on any details that need clearing up."

Carrington wandered over to the small, wooden side table that was holding his coffee mug. He grabbed the mug and brought it to his lips once, finishing what was left inside of it.

"While you are all out there, I'm going to contact a colleague of mine."

The agents cleared out of Carrington's office, leaving him alone with Foster in his corner with his computer. As Owen closed the door behind them, Cynthia looked back one last time before it shut. Owen raised an eyebrow at her.

"What's the matter?" He asked, a small laugh behind his words. "Did you leave something of yours in there?"

Cynthia glared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "Of course not. Just, Carrington saying he was going to contact someone caught my interest."

Owen blew out some air in disbelief. "What about it?" He replied. "Carrington probably talks to people all the time."

Cynthia ended up shrugging as the three of them approached the door to Grimshaw's room once again. Owen thought about knocking but he slid the door open without warning and stepped in. Grimshaw was standing in the middle of the room as if he was a signpost of sorts. It didn't seem he had been doing anything at all before the door slid open, which came to the surprise of the three agents. Henry and Cynthia hung back while Owen approached the seasoned hacker without any noticeable worry.

Grimshaw looked at him square in the eyes before sighing dramatically. "Back again, are we?" He said. "I thought I did everything I could to help you."

Owen gave clever smile in response. "Ah, come on, Grimshaw. You're our favorite hacker. Don't you think we'd stop and visit just for the heck of it."

Grimshaw's eyelids hung lightly over in his eyes in disinterest. "No, and frankly, I'd rather you do whatever it is rookie agents do in their spare time."

Owen's eyes went wide quickly his coy smile fading into an offended frown. "Alright. We're not rookies. We're not as experienced as someone like Jonathan, but that doesn't make us any worse off."

Grimshaw shrugged. "It's all the same to me, really."

Owen's frown was obvious at this point. "Well, keep your opinions to your expertise. You've got to be the only person I know who makes a living standing in one spot in his free time. What's your secret?"

Grimshaw's eyes made the move to roll, but they remained steady. "I never made any claim about what you three do in your spare time, so you should have to in my regard, either. Why are you here?"

Owen turned his head away from Grimshaw for a moment to collect himself and also conceal his eyes rolling. He turned back, his hands resting gently on his waist. "Carrington said you'd have gadgets for us." He replied.

Grimshaw shook his head. "I wasn't given any warning ahead of time, so it'll probably be a few minutes."

Owen raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you've not been informed yet?"

Grimshaw gave him a flat look. "You do a very good job of repeating, Owen."

Owen took in a breath. "So you have no idea about the dataDyne dinner party, then?"

Grimshaw's eyes opened with recognition. "Oh, yes. The investor party. Why didn't you just mention that?"

Owen dropped his head in annoyance. "Well, do you now know what we want?" He asked.

Grimshaw waved a hand at him. "Yes, of course, I do." He said. "They're sending the tools over from the tech department next door."

Owen nodded. "Alright, and fill us in. What kind of toys have you managed to come up for us?"

Grimshaw tilted his head slightly. "And you're the one calling me immature." He said. "They're not toys."

Owen's eyelids dropped slightly before he sighed. "You never have fun, don't you?"

Grimshaw shook his head. "I don't think you'd really agree on what my definition of fun is, unfortunately."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Really. Well, it's probably better that I don't know, then."

Grimshaw gave a short nod before sighing. He stopped and looked behind when he heard the venting sound of the small conveyor behind him. He turned around fully and approached the back wall, far to the right side. He waited a moment for the conveyor to cease moving. Once it did, he slid the thin, red, metal door open and reached in, revealing a plastic tray which held various Institute gadgets.

He took the tray into his hands and lazily carried over to the corner of the table that held the two computers before sitting it down. He gave it one last glance before looking over at the three agents. "Alright, well, here you go." He said. "I hope you're not expecting an entire discussion about what each of them does."

"At least tell us what you're equipping us with," Cynthia replied.

"Fine," Grimshaw said. "Well, let's see."

He took a breath and ran his hand across the tray of electronic tools. "You've got your high-tech lock-picks, your EMP scrambler, your non-lethal stunner." He took a moment to stop, his hand running across a circular, plump disc. "Oh, here's something that you might enjoy. It seems you're getting a cloaking device. It looks to be packed with at least three minutes worth of juice." He said.

Owen nodded. "Alright. That's something we can work with." He said before tilting his head. "Yeah, and any secret recorders, you know, for audio or maybe video?

Grimshaw nodded and dug into the bottom of the pile. "Yeah, here you go. Some nicely designed recorders disguised as flowers."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Oh, how nice."

"Yeah, well don't go crazy over it," Grimshaw replied. He took a step away from the tray of gadgets before gesturing to it. "They're all yours, just don't use them all in one sitting." He said.

The three agents slowly walked over and each took a gadget that peaked their interest before storing the others away for future use. Cynthia seemed content, so the two men were also. Owen nodded to Grimshaw. "Thank you, Grimshaw." He replied.

"Don't go around thinking you owe me something." He said. "Now, I'd like to be left to my thoughts if you wouldn't mind."

Cynthia blew air out of her nose at that. "Thoughts are a rare commodity for you, Grimshaw."


End file.
